PARIS—As French President
François Hollande
prepared to dine with his Chinese counterpart
Xi Jinping
inside the gilded interiors of the Élysée Palace last week, the two leaders were in a celebratory mood over a historic breakthrough: the end of a Cold War on cold cuts.

No longer would the vast array of hams, sausages and other meats that comprise France's proud culinary tradition of charcuterie be shut out of China. Hours earlier, their governments had signed a trade agreement finally allowing France's pig meat to grease the world's biggest market for all things pork.

"I have tasted the French specialties," Mr. Xi declared. The French president nodded approvingly.

The deal aims to help France piggyback onto a good thing. For decades, Italy and Spain have battled it out as the two superpowers of ham that is cured, rather than cooked, to perfection. Italy's Prosciutto of Parma and Spain's Serrano Ham stole the march on their French counterpart, Jambon de Bayonne, hooking gourmands from Brooklyn to Shanghai.

Together, those European hams racked up more than €516 million ($710.5 million) in total exports last year while their Gallic cousin fetched a fraction of that, according to trade and export authorities.

France, however, isn't content to slop up scraps. Mass retailers like
Carrefour
say they are ready to give French pork products special treatment in hypermarkets across China. One senior French diplomat described Mr. Hollande's meat mission here as "key" to the Franco-Chinese summit.

As soon as Mr. Xi arrived in France on Tuesday, the pressure was on. French Foreign Minister Laurent Fabius accompanied the Chinese leader to Lyon, a city renowned for its pork-based recipes. Several tables of local delicacies awaited him inside the city hall.

Flanked by his wife, Mr. Xi tasted everything on offer: rosette salami, encrusted pâté and links wrapped in a flaky brioche. He enjoyed the rosette so much, a Lyon official said, that the city offered him an entire salami.

Elsewhere, though, other pork players are raising something of a stink over France's new prized pig market.

"The French are no competition," sniffs Paolo Tramelli, director of marketing for Italy's Parma Ham Consortium. "We've been at this for years, working to spread the image and fame of our product."

Montesano, based in the Canary Islands, raises thousands of Black Iberian pigs that produce hams famed for their crimson meat marbled with fat. The firm's China sales rose 25% in 2013 to €1.2 million, accounting for 7% of the company's total sales.

Mr. Garcia boasts that his hams retail for €800 apiece while "no one talks about French ham."

Hogwash, say the French.

The country's leaders have a long history of defending their native ham. Jambon de Bayonne, with its sweet yet salty taste, was known to grace the dining rooms of Marguerite de Navarre and King Henry IV.

"All of [them] argued fervently for its place at the table," according to the Bayonne Ham Consortium, a trade group.

In a sort of ham homage, the leaders of modern-day France designated the basin of the Adour River near the Spanish border as the exclusive realm of Bayonne Ham. Under French law, only pigs raised in this sun-kissed region can bear the name of Bayonne. They are fattened with a strict diet of corn before being slaughtered and salted for up to a year.

While the snooty status gave Bayonne Ham pride of place in French households, ham producers became complacent on the world stage. Rivals in Italy and Spain, meanwhile, butted their way into foreign markets.

Prosciutto makers in Parma commissioned studies to reassure American food-safety inspectors it was safe to eat meat that is cured, yet technically uncooked. Italy's government then set its sights on China, negotiating a trade agreement that assuaged decades-old concerns about the safety of the uncooked ham and prodding Italian restaurants across China to include it on the menu.

Spanish ham producers entered the fray, expanding their exports to China to €4 million last year, from €592,000 in 2008.

France is counting on China to catapult its bacon into the world's porcine pantheon. The country consumed more than 50 million metric tons of pig meat last year. By 2022, the average Chinese consumer is expected to eat 34 kilograms of pig meat annually, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development. That's a third more than the projected average for other OECD members.

The French are also going whole hog on the retail front—harnessing the collective power of France's formidable hypermarket chains.

Carrefour SA, the world's second-largest retailer after Wal-Mart Stores Inc., has more hypermarkets in China than it does in France. So it is exploring ways to include charcuterie in a special marketing campaign touting the artisanal heritage of French food.

As Mr. Hollande rolled out the red carpet for Mr. Xi on Wednesday, French Trade Minister Nicole Bricq huddled with Carrefour management inside a Paris restaurant, where she lamented how Italy beat France in bringing its bacon to Beijing.

By hamming it up in China, Ms. Bricq said, "we are conveying an image of culture, taste and savoir faire."

As word of the pork accord began to circulate in recent days, Carrefour international brand manager Audrey Berthet says she began receiving emails from colleagues in China asking: "When can we push the button on charcuterie?"

At a Carrefour in Beijing, no foreign hams were yet on display as homemaker Liu Juan browsed the aisles. She had once ordered prosciutto at an Italian restaurant, but the meat was "so salty," she said, adding: "Maybe we didn't eat it the right way."

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